Like many people, I spent a lot of time killing bugs as a kid.
The methods varied: there was the magnifying glass, the one-leg-at-a-time, and in moments of laziness, the standard shoe-stomp.
But then, in my early teens, I saw a French documentary called “Microcosmos”. It was a fascinating look into the lives of insects. No narration, no talking-head bug experts, just 80 minutes of up-close footage of various insects going about their business. Ants building stuff. Ladybugs being pelted by enormous raindrops. Dung beetles…doing what they do. (Side note – I saw this movie on a date, which in retrospect was a poor choice. It turns out that watching dung beetles pushing around giant balls of crap is not the way into a girl’s heart.)
By the end of the movie, I was wracked with guilt. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the tiny lives I had ruined over the years. Within minutes of leaving the theatre, I promised myself that I would never harm another insect as long as I lived. I would respect the microscopic world that exists just beneath our feet. All bugs would from henceforth be my friends.
Except centipedes. I will always kill centipedes.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. The metronomic clicking, like a marching ant.
2. The echoing slides of the guitar, like a spider spinning a web.
3. The persistent beat, like a dung beetle bravely carrying out his unfortunate lot in life.
Recommended listening activity:
Cheering for the little guy.